


Green

by squishwrites02



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Artist Keith (Voltron), Character Death, Child Neglect, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Human Krolia (Voltron), Mentioned Krolia (Voltron), Suicide, Young Keith (Voltron) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishwrites02/pseuds/squishwrites02
Summary: Mess in the kitchenI was so disappointedI guess I got to my headAnd I was too young to understand it- Green by Cavetown——Keith’s mom is a shell do what she used to be. The mom that was there six years ago is long gone and has since been replaced with someone who’s there just as much as his late father.(Vent)





	Green

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unedited vent fic vaguely based on things going on in my life. I hope you enjoy.

Memories of a time before his father passed plagued Keith's mind every moment of his life. They weren't bad, yet they tortured him. They constantly reminded him that what he used to have was gone. That they'll remain as memories that'll slowly fade as he grows older. 

He desperately holds onto them, writing down every detail he can recall. 

It hurt knowing that there would be no more beautiful drives through the mountains every summer to spent time on a beach. There would be no more walks through the woods nearby during the fall. No more fishing in the river, no swimming at the public pool, no taking pictures of the many birds that gather along the creek. 

Memories of trying ice cream at every place they could find faded and seeing a new shop open and one shut down tugs at his heart as he walks around town. It's been years since he's been there, and it's gone now, too. 

There were no Saturday mornings spent at the grocery store, no more running errands with his lively mother, no more groaning as she excitedly brings him to the dressing room with a selection of clothing she wants him to try. 

No more opening presents on his birthday to reveal art supplies and action figures and things to bring camping the following summer. No more running down stairs with a still wet canvas to proudly show off his skills, to exclaim how great of an artist he'd be as an adult. 

No more counting down to Christmas and eating home cooked meals and spending time with family on Easter. 

September used to bring colorful leaves and excitement for Halloween and haunted houses and cider and campfires. As people around him planned their costumes, he couldn't help but to be jealous. Twelve years old wasn't too old to go trick or treating, he knew that, but he knew he wasn't going to go. None of his friends in school were friends outside. He has no reason. 

September only brings back memories. Just weeks after school started, it happened. It was surely unexpected, but it would never leave his mind. No six year old should ever have to witness what Keith had seen. 

He and his mom walked in the door hand in hand as Keith excitedly talked about what he did at school. He chirped happily about the turtle his teacher brought in as a class pet and the brownies they had for a classmates birthday. 

The house was silent but they thought nothing of it. Krolia made her way to the kitchen to begin preparing Keith's lunch as kindergarten was only a half-day thing in their town. She instructed Keith to go upstairs and wash his hands before eating. 

And there, before him, was an image that would forever be burned into his mind. An image no child should ever see. 

His dad was there, laying limp in the otherwise empty bathtub, a gun in hand and the contents of his head splattered throughout the room. 

He stood frozen, horrified. 

You'd expect there to be tears, but none came. He felt nothing but fear. 

His mom called up, asking his father if he'd like something to eat as well. There was no answer. Keith had not yet moved, he was paralyzed. 

She walked up the stairs and saw Keith in the doorway. She'd soon regret going to check out what was causing the silence.

He lost both of his parents that day. 

His dad took everything his mom had with him. His happiness, her love, her ambition, her motivation. Everything. What was left wasn't his mother, she wasn't Krolia Kogane. She was an empty shell left on the beach. His mom was gone too. 

At the age of twelve, Keith had only lived half of his life with a childhood. The rest was numb. His parents were gone. His mom no longer cooked or shopped every weekend. She cleaned up when she absolutely had to. Only washed clothes when there was nothing left for herself to wear. Only moved for work and to buy another pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine from the convenience store town the street. 

His dad took not only his own life, but the life of his wife and kid. 

Saturday's were empty and quiet. Birthdays were forgotten and no longer expected. Meals were from boxes in the freezer and hidden away in his bedroom where he didn't have to suffer in silence in the same room as her. His art was ignored and unappreciated and never enough. September's were painful and nothing like they were at six years old. 

Weights were placed on his shoulders and chest and around his ankles and they brought him down each day with a fight. He fought them for school and they increased in weight as he passed by spots that used to bring joy. The home he was once in was long gone, something that was gotten rid of within months of the incident as the bathroom where it occurred could barely be passed without an awful wave of nausea and panic. Showers were taken at his Nan's until the house sold and they were free to leave behind the scene that was forever there. 

It hurt. He cursed at his dad, begging for an answer. Why did he leave? Why did he do this to his family? Why did he take everything. His dad, his mom, his childhood, his life. It was gone, meaningless, forgotten. He'd never have it back. He was angry at his father for leaving everything behind and his mom for not getting help and not bothering to make an effort for her son. 

He was angry when he walked through the door after school and saw his mother in the same spot he left her that morning on his way out. Mad when she took off work and forgot about the bills and mad that there was barely anything to eat. 

His art was acknowledged with a grunt, she'd nod and say "that's nice honey," without even glancing at the piece he held up proudly. He'd glance through the crowd as he accepted an award, hoping that maybe, just maybe she pulled herself out of bed to cheer her son on for achieving something he worked hard for despite knowing it was pointless. He faked a smile as he shook the principal's hand, congratulating him on his piece. 

He blew out candles and caught falling leaves. He tried to pray despite only going to church for Easter and Christmas. He cried when he saw a shooting star. He always checked the time at 11:11. He always picked up pennies that were heads up and searched for four leaf clovers and blew dandelion puffs. He knew his father was gone for good. He was dead and he'd seen that, but his mom was still there. He just wanted her warm hugs and her soothing voice. He wanted to fall asleep to her singing or reading to him at night. He wanted someone to cheer him on when he did good on a hard test and when he filled a sketchbook with works he was proud of. He wanted the house to be filled with the scent of yet another amazing dinner and a lit candle and fresh flowers and home made cookies and he wanted to visit that beach again and drive through the mountains with the sound of the radio crackling and struggling to find signal. He wanted to create new memories and celebrate the life his dad once had and see his family and adopt pets. 

He wanted someone to hug him when his girlfriend (or as he'd soon discover, boyfriend) broke up with him and someone to take his first day of high school just a little too seriously and someone that would teach him to drive and help him pick a college. 

But that was only a dream.


End file.
